


Dr Jekyll and Mr Hathaway

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hathaway's been keeping a big secret, but now he needs Lewis's help.  Apologies (and thanks) to Robert Louis Stevenson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hathaway knew how Lewis felt about text messages. So when Lewis got a text message from Hathaway on a Friday night that simply said, "My flat. Please hurry," he didn't hesitate. Ordinarily, he'd make some sort of joke--"Should I call the police?"--but Hathaway never said "please hurry." Something was wrong, and the knowledge of that wrongness ate away at Lewis as he drove to Hathaway's place.

When Lewis knocked at Hathaway's door, he heard Hathaway say, "It's open." Lewis let himself in, and found Hathaway, handcuffed by one hand to the head of his bed.

"What happened? Were you robbed?" Lewis asked, concerned.

Hathaway held up a hand. "Please, sir, stay where you are."

Lewis stopped immediately, making a gesture to ask if someone was still there. 

Hathaway shook his head. "Not in the way you're thinking. I did this to myself." He gestured to the cuffs.

Lewis frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm afraid I might do someone an injury and I wanted to prevent it if at all possible."

Lewis shook his head, completely lost. "Do someone an injury? What're you talking about?"

Hathaway exhaled shakily. "You won't believe me if I tell you."

"Are you going to lie to me?" Lewis asked.

"No."

"Then I'll believe you," Lewis said.

Hathaway was silent for a long moment. "I was involved in a medical trial at university, the details of which I can't go into. But the experimental treatment I was subjected to had some…rather severe side effects."

"How severe?" Lewis asked.

"I blacked out. And didn't remember what I'd done," Hathaway said. "I reported the incident to the researchers, and they removed me from the trial, but by then it was too late."

"Too late for what? What happened to you?" Lewis asked.

"The treatment…split me in two," Hathaway said. "And the man who took over while I suffered my blackouts was everything I wasn't. My worst impulses. My dark side. I know it sounds impossible, but…"

"I'm still listening," Lewis said gently. He paused. "I have to ask, though…did you hurt anyone?"

Hathaway shook his head. "No. He never got that far. I trained myself to keep in control. I learned how to tell when the blackouts would begin and learned what to do to keep him hidden. Aside from a stray word or movement, he hasn't taken over in years."

"What's changed?" Lewis asked.

"For the past week, I've felt him there all the time, waiting for a weak moment," Hathaway said. "And tonight I've had the warning signs, stronger than I've ever had them." He looked at Lewis. "I needed someone I could trust to make sure I don't get away. To make sure he doesn't get free."

"What do you want me to do?"

Hathaway held out the key to the handcuffs. "Keep this and don't let me have it. I don't know what he'll do. He might pretend to be me or pretend to be hurting me to get it back. But it doesn't matter. Don't let him go."

"But if he's hurting you," Lewis began to protest.

"Don't let him go," Hathaway said firmly. "You have to promise me."

Lewis nodded, pocketing the key. "I promise. Will I be able to tell when you're back?"

"You should," Hathaway said. "We've not met properly, but I have it on authority that he and I are…very different."

"Be careful," Lewis said, not knowing what other warning or sign of concern he could give.

Hathaway began to smile, but before he could, he relaxed, slouching. He changed position, noticing as if for the first time that one of his wrists was restrained, and then he tugged at the cuffs, a frown sitting between his eyebrows when he realised the cuffs wouldn't give. He turned his attention to Lewis and a knowing smile crossed into his eyes. "Hello, Robbie."

Lewis raised his eyebrows. "Have we met?"

"Never for very long," Hathaway said. "Not like this. But I've been close to the surface sometimes, so I know you."

Lewis nodded. "Then you're the other one."

"Oh, very good. I can see why you're a detective," Hathaway said with a theatrical roll of his eyes. "Been telling you all about me, has he?"

"A bit," Lewis said cautiously.

"Lies," Hathaway said. "All lies. I'm really a very nice chap."

"How d'you mean?"

Hathaway chuckled. "Think about it. What would a theology student consider his dark side? I'll give you a hint." He leaned forward and whispered, "Everything." He leaned back again. "Oh, we could have a lot of fun, you and me."

"Define fun," Lewis said. If he kept the other man talking, it would be easier not to reveal any of his own weak points for this Hathaway to capitalise on.

"No doubt you think I mean something boring like harming someone," Hathaway said.

"I find it hard to believe, from what's been said, that you have scruples."

"Oh, they're not scruples. Not at all. But if I hurt anyone, that idiot would confess to it and I'd spend my life in jail." He shook his head. "I shouldn't risk it."

"What then?"

Hathaway smiled, that deeply satisfied look back in his eyes. "You're not a bad-looking man, Robbie." He leaned back and let his legs drift open. "I could make letting me go very worth your while. I know techniques it takes most people a lifetime to learn."

"But do you want to? Sleep with me, I mean?"

Hathaway looked annoyed. "What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one," Lewis said. "I'd have thought."

"Oh, yes, you're so bloody clever," Hathaway said.

"You didn't answer the question."

Hathaway looked sulky that his plan hadn't worked. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," Lewis said.

"If this is some sort of trick, it won't work," Hathaway said.

"No trick. I'm just interested," Lewis said.

Hathaway rolled his eyes again. "'Interested' is a word for a rat in a cage."

"That's very sad," Lewis said. "Thinking of you that way."

"Don't patronise me," Hathaway snapped.

"I'm not. Seems to me you can't recognise sympathy when you see it."

Hathaway snorted. "I'd have to have seen it first."

"Tell me where you come from," Lewis said.

"He didn't tell you?"

"I want to hear your version."

Hathaway looked irritated, but not with Lewis. "He straps himself in so tight he can hardly move. Restraint isn't free. It costs something. And he denied me for years--that he wanted any of the things I want, that he ever had any of the thoughts I think. Bloody Manichaean. He wouldn't let himself be me, but all those desires and needs and sins piled up and boiled over and had to go somewhere." He shrugged. "Enter me."

"He's afraid of you."

"He should be. He locked me up for years. Now that I'm free, I don't have to give a toss what he wants."

Lewis tipped his head to one side, thinking carefully. "I don't think you are bad."

"Oh, spare me," Hathaway said.

"Hathaway thinks you are, but he would, wouldn't he?" Lewis asked. "He'd designated your qualities as undesirable before you existed. But I think you're something else."

"I'm all aquiver to know what that is," Hathaway said, examining his fingernails in an elabourate show of boredom. 

"I think you're his guilt."

"Don't be ridiculous. I have no guilt."

"No, I know. That's just it. Anything he feels bad about got shunted into you. And you don't feel bad. That's the point of you. He didn't create you because he hated you. He created you because he felt guilty that he was like you…or that in some cases he even wanted to be like you."

"That's ridiculous."

"I don't think so," Lewis said, moving closer to Hathaway. "He was afraid to be like you, but fear only comes when you want or feel something you're told you shouldn't want or feel."

"Get away from me."

Lewis took a step back. "Whatever you say."

Hathaway stared at him--a long, hard stare with no kindness in it. "The only reason you're doing this is to get him back."

"I'm sorry you think so."

"I don't want your pity."

"What would kindness do to you if you accepted it? Would it hurt you?"

"Everything hurts me," snapped Hathaway. "That's the price of existing. Moving, breathing, talking, it all hurts. One more safeguard to make sure I can't endanger his precious little life."

"I know you won't like to hear this," Lewis said. "But I am sorry."

Hathaway was silent for a long time. "I don't understand."

"What's that?"

Hathaway looked at him. "You should hate me. Everyone does."

"Hathaway, you mean?"

"He's the only one I've known regularly. So yes. I suppose he's everyone."

"I don't hate you. It's true--you and Hathaway are different. But I can like different people."

Hathaway looked at him, upper lip curled in distaste. "That is so saccharine."

"I'm a saccharine bloke."

"Evidently."

"Nothing wrong with saccharine."

Hathaway snorted in derisive laughter. Then he was quiet a moment. "You really think I'm not bad?"

"I really do."

"Will you be upset? If I come back?"

"Dunno. Depends on what you do."

Hathaway made a rude face at Lewis. "I promise to leave the widows and orphans alone."

"That's a good start."

"Does it weigh very much, that halo?" Hathaway said, eyebrows raised.

"Not too much," Lewis said perfectly seriously. "Think it makes me head look smaller."

Hathaway snorted with laughter.

"Think you should have a separate name?" Lewis asked. "So I can tell when it's you?"

Hathaway considered it. Then the silky, self-assured smile was back. "Call me Michael. Patron saint of police officers."

Lewis nodded. "Michael it is."

Hathaway shuddered, and when he looked at Lewis again, Lewis recognised the man he knew.

Hathaway was incredulous. "Did you just…make friends with my dark side?"

"I hope so," Lewis said.

"Whatever you did…" Hathaway went quiet, as if he were listening for something. Then he shook his head. "He's not shouting at me."

"Is he usually?"

"Oh yes."

"Well," Lewis said, "I consider that work well done."

Hathaway nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced.

Lewis waggled the key in his fingers. "Can I unlock you now?"

Hathaway nodded, gesturing Lewis closer. "Yes, please."

Lewis unlocked the handcuffs, and Hathaway made a face, rubbing his wrist where he'd pulled to get away. 

"All right?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway considered the question. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Good," Lewis said. "D'you want me to stay?" 

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"But do you want me to?"

"I don't know," Hathaway said. "I don't want to put you in danger."

"I wasn't in danger," Lewis said. "The most he tried to do was seduce me. That's not dangerous, is it?"

Hathaway looked as though he were about to answer, but instead his jaw muscles flexed and he was silent.

"I'll stay till morning," Lewis said. "Just in case."

Hathaway nodded, but that look of worry in his eyes didn't go away. Lewis suspected it would take time for Hathaway to feel safe again.

That was all right. They had the time.


	2. The Return of Mr Hyde

"You look tense, Robbie."

Lewis glanced over to see Hathaway slouching in the doorway, a sardonic smile on his face. "Hello, Michael."

"Very good!" Michael said, hands delving into his pockets as he entered the room. "I'm impressed."

"Didn't get where I am not being able to tell the difference between two people," Lewis said.

"Two people with the same face, though…you have to admit that's not something you get every day," Michael said. "And I repeat, you look tense."

"Do I?" Lewis said. "It's been a long day."

Michael's hands rested on Lewis's shoulders. "I can help with that." He began to massage Lewis's shoulders gently with his thumbs.

"I shouldn't let you," Lewis said, but it was a weak protest and he knew it.

"But it feels so good," Michael said, voice low. "Doesn't it?"

"This a bribe?" Lewis asked.

Michael's hands stilled on his shoulders. "Why should it be a bribe?"

"It shouldn't be necessarily. I'm only asking," Lewis said.

Michael's fingers dug back into Lewis's muscles, and Lewis had to stifle a sigh of enjoyment. "It's not a bribe."

"Okay, not a bribe," Lewis said. "Then what?"

A low chuckle sounded over his shoulder. "You can observe so much and yet you can't see this."

"What's this? And the answer had better be entirely free of coercion and harassment." Innocent stood in the doorway.

Michael's fingers were suddenly still against his shoulders, and Lewis knew James was back.

"Nothing, ma'am! No, I…I was just…"

"I mentioned I'd pulled a muscle in my shoulder, ma'am, and he was trying his new massage course on me," Lewis said.

Innocent looked skeptical. "Try to keep it work-appropriate, please."

"Absolutely, ma'am," Lewis said.

Hathaway sighed once Innocent had gone. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Covering for me. He's not…he doesn't understand what's socially appropriate."

"Oh, I think he understands it," Lewis said. "I think he just doesn't do it." He flexed his shoulders a bit. "Besides, it was nice."

"You shouldn't encourage him," Hathaway said.

Lewis shrugged. "Someone should."

Hathaway tensed but said nothing.

***

The next morning, the easy loping gait told Lewis that it was Michael who'd brought him his coffee.

"Thanks, Mike," Lewis said.

Michael raised his eyebrows and smirked. "A nickname. Does that mean you like me, Mr Lewis?"

"Means I like nicknames," Lewis said. "And you didn't seem like the sort to mind." He raised his coffee. "Thought you weren't the sort to do this though."

"I'm a man of mystery when it comes down to it," Michael said. "Just when you think you've got me sorted, I'll do something to surprise you." He paused. "You do like me."

Lewis gave him a warm look. "Course I do."

Michael sat on the edge of Lewis's desk. "I'd give you another massage but the boss lady wouldn't like it." He pouted.

"Don't think James thought much of it either," Lewis said.

"Fuck James," Michael said. "And by the way, that's not an idle comment. Somebody should."

"Don't think he'd appreciate you collecting volunteers," Lewis said.

"Robbie! What sort of man do you think I am?" Michael pretended, very poorly, to be shocked. "Were I to collect volunteers…a fascinating thought, by the way…even I know that James would prefer to be monogamous. Volunteer, singular."

Lewis glanced at Michael. "Tell me you're not going to give me grammar lessons as well."

Michael leaned toward him a bit. "Mine are much more interesting. James and I don't share views, but we do share a knowledge base."

"Really?" Now that was interesting.

Michael shrugged. "Of course. I came into being when he was at university. Everything he knew before that, I know. And some of what he knew after." He poked Robbie's shoulder. "And you are distracting me from flirting with you."

Lewis wouldn't have categorised it as flirting, but he supposed it was. No surprise that the suppressed side of James would be openly sensual, he supposed.

"Trying to keep on the good side of the boss lady," Lewis said, eyebrows raised. "Which you'd do well to emulate."

Michael pulled a disgusted face at him. "Good behaviour. So restrictive."

"So necessary for a policeman," Lewis said.

"Yes, all right, message received, we're not the Sweeney," Michael said with an elaborate eyeroll. "Though it might be more fun if we were."

Lewis gave Michael an amused look. Michael's comments might seem quite shocking to James, but Lewis was used to talk of all sorts. "Ah, but what bit of that do you want to emulate, I wonder?"

Michael shrugged. "It might be interesting to hit someone in a socially appropriate way."

Lewis chuckled softly. Even with Michael different as he was, bits of Hathaway still poked through. Who else would think of describing fisticuffs as "socially appropriate"?

Michael looked at him. "You don't believe me?"

"Course I believe you," Lewis said. "Was just thinking of the times I've thought the same."

Michael shook his head. "But you'd never. You're a good man."

Lewis frowned. "Being good doesn't mean you never have less than honourable thoughts or instincts…or even actions, once in a while."

Michael nodded. "Yes, it does. To me it does."

Lewis nodded slowly; there was that absolutism that was plain in both James's and Michael's points of view. Bad thoughts made you a bad man.

"You ever hit anyone?" Lewis asked. If Michael was in a forthcoming mood, maybe Lewis could learn a bit more about him.

Michael smiled. "Once. When _he_ was still taking part in the study, my first night out I started a fight."

Lewis raised his eyebrows, silently indicating his curiosity.

"That wasn't part of the plan," Michael said. "I only meant to get drunk and have a bit of fun. But someone pushed me in the pub. _He_ would've just apologised and taken it; he's such a bloody martyr. But I could feel the anger…my anger…bubbling away inside me, and it felt good. I wanted it. I wanted the power it gave me." He laughed. "I blackened the other bloke's eye and he split my lip, and oddly enough, he seemed to think that made us best friends. Maybe he was like me. I don't know."

Lewis wondered if Michael knew how much of himself he was revealing. He'd reveled in his anger because it had made him feel powerful; did that mean Hathaway generally felt powerless? Lewis was aware that Michael could be manipulative, but at least with Lewis, Michael tended to use sex and flirtation as his tools, not lies.

"What are you thinking?" Michael said, sounding almost panicked.

Lewis gave Michael a reassuring look. "That nothing's ever as plain as it might seem at first. Even to someone clever as you or James."

Michael snorted. "If you've got that in writing, I'll sign it."

Lewis chuckled. "Come on. Back to work."

Michael nodded, crossing to his desk and getting started with his workday.

***

They were down the pub having a pint when Hathaway said, "Sir?"

"Hm?"

"Michael…" Hathaway paused, went red, and then carried on anyway. "He hasn't…taken any additional liberties with you, has he?"

"James, I'm a grown man. I can handle myself," Lewis said.

"That's not the point. You shouldn't have to!" Hathaway looked agitated. "He loves embarrassing me, and he knows the easiest way to do that is to…express interest in you."

"Nothing is happening, James," Lewis said firmly. "He's flirting and I'm…the one he's flirting to, I suppose."

"And the one he's giving backrubs in the office," Hathaway said.

"I told him Innocent didn't like that. He understood."

"I'm sure he understood, but he doesn't care about my career. I've worked bloody hard to get here, and he could upset it all at a stroke!"

Lewis shook his head. "I don't think that's what he wants."

Hathaway's jaw tensed. "Sir, I understand why you like him. He can be very charming. But you can't trust him!"

Lewis was beginning to feel a bit tired of Hathaway assuming he was Michael's fool. " _He's_ never lied to me."

Hathaway went ashen. "And I have," he whispered. "You think I…that I'm…"

"No," Lewis said, feeling guilty about his words already. "I don't think either of you should be locked away in that brain of yours. But I think you've made a lot of assumptions about him, and they might not all be true."

"Duly noted," Hathaway said, voice tense. "Excuse me."

Lewis's instinct was to stand back and let Hathaway have his space, but that only lasted until he saw Hathaway at the bar tossing back shot after shot. When it became clear Hathaway wasn't going to stop, Lewis stood and approached him.

"Right," Lewis said, touching Hathaway's arm to get his attention. "That's enough."

For a moment, Lewis could see the split inside Hathaway--James wanting to shout at him but knowing he mustn't get angry, must be good…and then, there was Michael.

"Robbie?" he murmured, the alcohol obviously having caught up to him. "I think…I'm a bit drunk."

"I'd say more than a bit," Lewis said. "I expect you'll need some help getting home."

Michael kissed Lewis's cheek. "Only if you help me."

"I'll help you, lad, but I won't _help_ you," Lewis said.

Michael pouted. "You're no fun."

Lewis managed to manoeuvre Michael into a nearby cab, and got in with him. He didn't want Michael wandering off and getting James a tattoo or summat.

Michael leaned against Lewis, rubbing his chest. "Would you consider it?"

"Consider what?" Lewis asked.

Michael's hand drifted in a southerly direction along Lewis's body. "I want to touch you. Make you come. Will you let me?"

Lewis touched Michael's hand to stop it moving any further. "Mike, man, we're in a taxi."

Michael shook his head. "That doesn't embarrass me."

Lewis rested his other hand on Michael's shoulder. "You're drunk. People say things when they're drunk."

Michael grinned wickedly. "Sometimes people _do_ things when they're drunk."

"Sometimes they do," Lewis said. "But we're not."

Michael seemed to deflate. "You said you liked me."

"I do like you," Lewis said quietly. "But there's some distance between liking someone and, erm…having it off."

Michael pulled away from Lewis, turning his head to stare out of the window. "You're just like _him_. You're ashamed of me."

"Never," Lewis said, with such emphasis that Michael turned to face him, startled.

"Then why?"

"More than one reason," Lewis said. "You're drunk, and I make it a point only to have relations with people who can freely consent. Second, you're not the only one in that body, are you? I would need to know this is what both of you want."

Michael shook his head. "But James will never let himself…"

"Then I can't," Lewis said. "Just like I couldn't sleep with you if you didn't want it."

Michael looked at Lewis for a very long time. "You really do like us both."

"I really do," Lewis agreed.

A slow smile spread across Michael's face. "So…if I can get James to agree to a kinky threesome…"

"We'll see," Lewis said, helping Michael out of the taxi and paying the cabbie.

"I wonder which one of us will get the hangover," Michael said as they entered his flat. "Robbie?"

Lewis helped him into bed. "Yeah, Mike?"

Michael lay on his back, looking up at Lewis. "The two of us. Me and James. Do you think we'll be fucked up like this forever?"

"No," Lewis said. "In fact…I'm not entirely sure you're fucked up now."

Michael giggled. "I didn't know you _knew_ that word!"

Lewis smiled at him. "Keep it under your hat."

Michael nodded, and then yawned softly. "Tired."

"Suppose you'd better sleep then," Lewis said.

"Mmm," Michael agreed, closing his eyes and turning onto his side. "Night."

Lewis almost let himself ruffle the lad's hair. Almost.

"Goodnight," he said.

***

Things calmed down a bit after that. Hathaway still wasn't overly fond of Michael, but he tolerated him. And Michael, for his part, seemed cautiously optimistic that Hathaway wouldn't lock him away mentally again.

Lewis didn't find it difficult to be friendly to both. It was like befriending twins--they looked alike, but there was never any question they were very different people.

Lewis and Hathaway were leaving a crime scene at night, taking a shortcut through an alley, when Lewis heard something behind him. He froze as he felt cold metal against his back--a weapon of some kind.

Hathaway hadn't seen, and he turned to face Lewis, frowning. "Sir?"

A voice came from behind Lewis. "Keep walking if you want your friend to live."

Lewis knew nothing Hathaway did or didn't do would stop the man if he'd planned to hurt Lewis. "Do as he says, James."

Hathaway clearly didn't want to go anywhere…and then his posture changed. Before Lewis could warn Michael away, Michael had flown at Lewis's assailant, disarming him and sending him sprawling. Lewis turned to see Michael hoisting the man to his feet, twisting his arm behind his back to keep him from going anywhere. The man squirmed and struggled, trying to get free.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you attacked him," Michael said, voice low and dangerous.

The man attempted to lunge at Lewis, but Michael brutally twisted the man's arm, and the man cried out in pain.

"Just try it," Michael hissed. "Take one step toward him, say one threatening word, _think_ about threatening him and it will be my personal pleasure to take you down."

"Michael," Lewis said.

Michael looked at Lewis, never loosening his grip on the assailant's arm. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Lewis said.

Michael looked back at the assailant, eyes cold. "Lucky him."

A pair of uniformed officers who had heard the commotion approached cautiously, and Lewis gestured them forward. Michael looked at them with suspicion.

"Sergeant," Lewis said. "It's over. Let him go."

With a disgusted sound, Michael released the man, and the uniformed officers took him into custody.

When Michael and Lewis were alone, Michael crossed to Lewis, eyes moving up and down his body. "You're sure he didn't hurt you."

Now it was all over, Lewis felt a bit shaky, but he tried to keep his nerves out of his voice. "Didn't have the chance, did he, with you there? Thanks for that, by the way." He turned to leave and stumbled.

Michael was there, and caught him before he went sprawling. "Those trousers fit you so beautifully, Robbie. I can't have you tearing them."

Lewis tried to laugh, but the sound came out strained and choked. Michael's grip on Lewis's arms tightened carefully.

"That wasn't bad," Michael said, as if to confirm. "The things I just did."

"No," Lewis said. "No, it wasn't bad at all."

Michael shuddered, and then it was James there with Lewis.

"Sir?" James whispered. "Did he just…?"

"Yeah," Lewis said. "Your dark side saved my life."

James pulled Lewis into a tight, protective hug, and Lewis hugged him back.

Suddenly, Hathaway pulled back. "…what is Michael trying to tell me about a kinky threesome?"

This time, Lewis did laugh. They might just be all right, the three of them.


End file.
